Pirates of Blackwater Bay
by andyoureturntome
Summary: The dragons have long been extinct, but dragon eggs are still in existence, and whoever secures and hatches them will be all-powerful. Can Sandor and Sansa get to them before Joffrey does? Will Arya's hatred for Sandor get in the way of their plans to save the world? AU...they're pirates.
1. Chapter 1

**This is what I get for having a ****_Pirates of the Caribbean_**** marathon with my friend and then expressing a half-joking desire to do a pirate story for the ****_Song of Ice and Fire_**** universe. He begged for me to follow through, so this is the result.**

**I think this goes without saying, but it's verrrrrry AU. I own neither the characters nor ASOIAF—GRRM does. I'm writing for fun (and this one's super fun!) and not for profit.**

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Joffrey lazed languidly on his throne, one foot propped up and the other dangling unconcernedly off the side. Sansa watched him warily. He was bored, and that rarely meant good things for her. His boredom bred cruelty, and she was his favorite target. His emerald eyes glittered maliciously as they fell on her, and she noted with a thrill of fear that he was gripping his pistol tightly.

Lip curling back maliciously, he called her forward. Legs trembling beneath her skirts, Sansa moved closer to the steps of the throne, resentment building behind her eyes. He pointed the mouth of the gun at her, and she tried not to flinch away as it danced in front of her.

She couldn't see his face; she could only see the silver cylinder. By now, her terror was only a dull ache in the back of her mind. She was used to having conversations with guns.

"My Lady Sansa," he whispered dangerously. "Why do you look so forlorn? It must be a dreadful grievance indeed to pull that pretty face into such an ugly grimace." The malevolence in his tone screamed through his hushed words. "Or maybe," his voice fell even more menacingly quiet, "I should give you something to frown about."

She heard the click of metal, and she closed her eyes. Every day, he threatened her, and every day, she wondered if that would be the day he killed her. She prayed for a beating instead of a bullet.

"Your Majesty!"

Sansa's eyes flew open in surprise and relief for the distraction. Dread was quick to replace those feelings when she saw that it was Gregor Clegane who had spoken the words. She shrank away from the shadow of Joffrey's throne and skittered out of the colossal man's path.

With narrowed blue eyes, Sansa watched as Gregor traversed the marble hall, his footsteps falling hard and echoing loudly. He was a giant brute of a man, as cruel as he was ugly, and Sansa hated him as much as she feared him.

With he reached Joffrey, he sunk into a clumsy bow before him.

"I hope you brought good news, Clegane."

Sansa hoped so, too. Joffrey was formidable when he was bored, but he was unequivocally terrifying when he was angry.

"Good and bad, Your Majesty."

"The good?"

"I found what you were looking for. It's up north, at The Wall. I brought _The Mountain_ in for some repairs, but she should be ready by tomorrow. We'll leave at dawn."

Joffrey nodded, still looking somewhat disgruntled.

"And the bad?"

"There have been sightings of my brother about the city."

Sansa squeaked in surprise. She slapped a hand over her mouth and shot a worried look in Joffrey's direction. But he had burst into laughter at the same time, and he hadn't seemed to notice her.

"Impossible! If he had made it into King's Landing, I would know. Now, stop wasting my time with foolish things. Tell me about the map—"

Joffrey stopped short, suddenly aware of her again. He motioned for her to be taken away, and some of his soldiers seized her and dragged her out. With unnecessary cruelty, they threw her to the ground. Without a second glance at her, they reentered the throne room, slamming the double doors behind them.

She could feel the ache where bruises would form and stood up, ignoring the pain. Sighing, she moved through the halls of the castle. Ever since her father's death, the place felt more and more like a prison, and her engagement to Joffrey was her death sentence. Thinking of her father made her think of the rest of her family, all dead, and all lost to her.

Biting back tears, she hurried faster to her room high in one of the turrets. Her foot had just landed on the first step when she felt a rough hand close around her forearm. She saw a flash of burned flesh before her scream was swallowed up in a kiss. Her body relaxed into his when she realized who it was. Bringing her hands to his face, she kissed him back, feeling happy for the first time in weeks.

Strong arms came around her tiny waist. Without breaking their lips apart, he lifted her easily and spun her in a circle. Pressing her to the wall, he let her slide down against his body. As her feet settled on the ground again, she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull his lips closer to hers.

They finally broke apart, and he brought his hands to the wall on either side of her head. Grey eyes drowned in blue as they stared at one another, breathing hard.

"Sandor," she whispered disbelievingly. "I heard rumors that you were in King's Landing, but I didn't want to believe them until I saw for sure that they were true." Caressing the burned side of his face, she stared at him in wonder.

"If they know I'm here, I don't have much time."

"Please don't leave me again."

She gripped his shoulders tighter as if she could hold him there with her. Gently, he pulled her hands away and kissed her again. It tasted of regret and goodbyes, and she felt tears fall in spite of herself.

"I have to. Joffrey's looking for the lost dragon eggs, and I've got to get to them before my bastard brother does."

Sansa gasped. Dragons had long been extinct, and she didn't relish the thought of them returning. When she was a child, her governess had told her stories about the days of the dragons. Supreme and fearsome creatures, the dragons and whoever controlled them were undefeatable. She shivered when she thought of what Joffrey could do with such uninhibited power. She hadn't even known he was looking. He _had_ been having secret meetings without her. Remembering something, she looked at Sandor again.

"Is that what he needs the map for?"

"What map?"

Sandor's eyes were deep with concentration, and Sansa saw a spark of urgency in them.

"Just now—right before Joffrey made me leave—your brother said he had found the map. It's at The Wall."

Sandor swore loudly before punching the wall. Despite how close the blow came to her head, she didn't flinch. She knew better than to be afraid of Sandor.

"I guess I'm going North."

"No. Please. You were gone so long the last time, and North is even further. I can't be without you for so long again."

"I have to go, Sansa. I hate leaving you here with that little shit, but if I can get the eggs, I'll be keeping you safer in the long run."

"Then I'm coming with you."

He didn't argue with her like she thought he would. He only studied her carefully, taking in her firm gaze and resolute features.

"Do you know what you're asking, girl?"

Sansa nodded. Though he was a pirate, Sandor was a better man than any of the soldiers she'd encountered in King's Landing. And he far surpassed the likes of his brother and the other privateers in Joffrey's employ. Though they acted as though their position gave them prominence and respectability, they were nothing more than glorified thieves and criminals. Sandor had always been honest about who and what he was.

She had been terrified of him when she first met him. He had still been in Joffrey's service, and he was a bitter and cruel drunk. He had formed a weird fixation on her, and she had resisted him at first. Slowly but surely, a romance blossomed between them, and now, she was always bereft when he left her. He would always come back, and it would be as though no time had passed between them at all.

But ever since he had left Joffrey's employ, it was getting harder and harder for him to return to her. He was an enemy in King's Landing, and she knew he was risking his life just to see her. Life on the sea would be difficult, but if it meant she could be with him, she would risk anything.

"I want to be with you."

"I'll come for you tonight."

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**Good lord. I have to stop. I have three other stories going, so I might not update consistently or frequently, but bear with me please!**

**I guess this is a semi-crackfic; it's obviously for fun, so please don't judge too harshly! Lemme know if I should continue or if I should just…abandon ship! bwahaha I'm so witty.**

**Thanks to anyone who read! xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**I forgot how fun this was to write! I'm really glad I picked it up again!**

**As you know, GRRM gets all credit for the characters and for ASOIAF. I write for joy and fun and not for profit!**

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Her day passed slowly and tensely. Joffrey's cruelty was insatiable, and Sansa did her best to avoid him. More soldiers were about than usual, and she knew it was because they were looking for Sandor. She trembled at the thought and prayed that he was somewhere safe. It had been foolhardy of him to come see her, and no matter how happy she had been to see him, she hoped it wouldn't end up hurting him.

Joffrey had bid her join him for dinner that night, and she went to his room unwillingly. The spread in front of him, though delicious-looking, was rendered unappetizing by his presence. Sneering at her over his wine goblet, he exuded pomposity and smugness. She detected a hint of irritation bubbling under the surface. He only sought her company when he wanted to abuse someone. Her stomach dropped in nervous anticipation for his wave of fury to crash over her.

"And what have you to look so sour about?" Did _you _waste an entire day on a fruitless search?"

Her heart leapt and her stomach dropped at the same time as she experienced a flood of different and conflicting emotions. Relief pooled within her as she realized that Joffrey had yet to locate Sandor. However, frustrated desires always put Joffrey in the blackest of moods, and she didn't want to be alone in the room with his rage.

Previously unaware that she wore her displeasure on her face, she now tried to rearrange her features into a more pleasant expression, though she knew it was useless. No matter how agreeable she looked or was, she knew that it would do no good to ease his temper. Too late, she realized that he was waiting for her to answer his rhetorical question.

"N-no, Your Majesty, I did not."

"N-no, Your Majesty," he mimicked cruelly. "God, but you're annoying!"

Seizing his knife, he hurled it across the room at the opposite wall. It whizzed past her ear, and she tried not to flinch. Signs of weakness only goaded him further and prodded him to seek to cause more harm. Her fingernails bit into her palms as she clenched her hands into fists.

Tense seconds ticked by, and Sansa didn't dare relax until Joffrey returned his attention to his plate and started consuming his meal with startling vigor.

Delicately, she lifted her fork and began eating. She could barely taste the food and swallowed it down with difficulty. Fear constricted her throat and compressed her breathing. Edgy silence hung in the air between them, and Sansa longed for their excruciating dinner to be over. More than anything, she wanted to be in Sandor's comforting embrace, sailing away from this place never to come back.

A knock came at the door. The sound shot through her and made her jump. Joffrey was too preoccupied with the unanticipated visitor to be annoyed with her, and she was silently grateful to the intruder. His focus was centered on the door and seemed to look right through her.

"Enter," he called imperiously.

Petyr Baelish, one of his advisors, glided into the room, all sycophantic fawning and facetious submission.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, for the intrusion and interruption, but your mother seeks an audience with you. She is on her way down to see you now."

He shot a pointed look in Sansa's direction, and Joffrey waved her out dismissively. Though she hadn't finished her meal, she was not unhappy to take leave of him. Pushing away from the table quickly, she all but leapt toward the door. In fact, she was so eager to escape him, she had to restrain herself from running out of the room.

Once in the cavernous hallways of the castle, she breathed easier. At a brisk pace, she set off for her room. A second set of footsteps echoed behind her, and she turned to see Petyr rushing to catch up with her. Capturing her arm with his, he bestowed upon her an oily smile to match his slimy touch. As he guided her down the hall, he observed her hungrily.

"Allow me to escort you, my lady."

He was far too close to her, and his breath was far too hot against her ear. Cringing away from him, she tried to subtly extricate her arm from his grip, but he held fast to her, and she resigned herself to his company.

The long walk was lengthened by the unpleasantness of the journey. She was utterly repulsed by the man who had her in his clutches. Even on the climb up the stairs, he didn't relinquish his hold on her.

Once outside her door, she made to go inside, but he still wouldn't let go. Instead, his hands moved to her shoulders to drag her toward him. Clamping her lips together, she clawed at his chest, and she tried to fight him off. Anger colored his features, and he tried to subdue her and bend her to his will. Only the arrival of her night guard saved her from his treacherous advances. He watery eyes looked at her lasciviously, a promise in them to return and claim what she had denied.

Shivering and grateful for once to see the men who held her hostage in her own room, she stepped through her door and closed it firmly behind her. For the umpteenth time that day, she thought about how thankful she was that she was leaving and would never have to come back to this dreadful place.

The antechamber was gloomy and dark, and she regretted not bringing a candle. As she quickly moved through it and entered her bedroom, she was pleased to find that it was considerably brighter. The embers in her fireplace crackled and simmered low, throwing a soft light over the room. Exhausted, she collapsed onto her bed, feeling drained and weary. She curled into a ball and wondered when Sandor would come for her.

She didn't have to wait long. From the shadows, he emerged, making her squeal in surprise. She threw herself into his arms, savoring his strength and warmth. It wasn't until she was safe in his arms that she realized that she had been worried he would leave without her.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come!"

"Do you doubt me so?" His tone was more amused than offended, and she shook her head and rested it against him.

As she nuzzled against his chest, he lightly ruffled her hair before setting her back on the ground. Discontented with being away from him, she frowned and took his hand, pulling him toward her again.

"Little Bird, please, we have to hurry. Have you packed?"

Eyes wide, she shook her head. She'd had no time during the day, and they were running out of time now. She flew over to her trunk and began throwing things in at an alarmed rate. Sandor paced back and forth, his hand on the hilt of his sword. As she packed frantically, he watched her with amusement.

"You don't need to overexert yourself, dear heart. Yes, we are in a hurry, but the ship won't leave without her captain."

Anxieties slightly assuaged, she slowed her pace and packed more thoughtfully and with less abandon.

"So, what did you do all day?"

"I listened from the shadows of the castle and tried to learn about Joffrey's plans and Gregor's movements."

"That's so dangerous! What if you had been discovered?"

"Well, I reckon I'd be dead, and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Sandor, that isn't funny! The only thing that got me through the day was knowing that I was going to get to see you at the end of it."

"I'm sorry to have upset you."

"Just please don't make any more jokes about you being dead or gone. I can't bear the thought of living without you."

Silence descended as she mulled over anything she might have forgotten to pack. So absorbed was she in her thoughts that she didn't notice how tenderly he was staring at her. It touched him to think that she cared that much about him. Blue eyes flicked up to him again.

"So that's what you did all day: watched Joffrey?"

"Yes, why?"

"Did you watch me at all?" she asked shyly.

"Of course not! Why would I?"

"Oh." She hadn't meant to sound hurt, and she didn't understand why she was. She continued throwing things in her bag, feeling slightly deflated.

"Well, I mean, I checked in on you, but it was Joffrey I was most concerned with. Watching you would have felt predatory, and it's Joffrey that I'm hunting."

At his words, she instantly felt appeased. Stalking her was something Joffrey would have done. She was far more grateful for Sandor's gentle sort of protectiveness. Her hands stilled. A soft smile played at her lips as she closed the lid of the trunk.

She started dragging it across the floor, struggling a bit with its bulk and weight. In two long strides, Sandor crossed the room and took it from her, hefting it easily. The clattering of the case drowned out all other noise, and the two of them missed the sound of her outer door opening. Almost too late, they heard the floor creaking as someone made his way over to their bedroom door.

The door began to swing open, and Sansa looked over at Sandor in horror. Quick as a flash, his arms shot out and grabbed her and pushed her down onto the bed. Her heart started racing at the sudden turn of events. She was more afraid of the invader than she was of Sandor. Even as his sword came across her throat, she still trusted him completely.

Sir Dontos was less certain of his intentions. He stood in the doorway, horror distorting his features.

"Make one sound, and I will slit her throat," Sandor growled in a terrifying voice she had never heard him use before. "Now, come here."

Soundlessly, Dontos stumbled forward. His trembling fingers reached for his sword, but in a single, swift movement, Sandor whirled around and knocked him out with the hilt of his sword. The older knight crumpled to the ground, and Sansa gasped in shock and relief.

"Sorry about that, but if he thought we were together, he would have been less cooperative. I had to make him think you were in danger."

"Of course," she whispered, grasping his hand and kissing his knuckles.

His strong hands caressed her face for a moment before he turned his attention back to the unconscious knight on the floor. He raised his sword over him, preparing to thrust it down. Her arms flew out to stop him.

"Sandor! Please don't kill him! He has been my only ally here." Hesitation stilled his swing, and he looked at her with unconvinced grey eyes.

"We can't leave witnesses."

"Sandor, please."

Unable to refuse her, he grabbed the sheets off her bed and bound the man quickly. Grabbing her trunk and her hand afterwards, he began dragging her to the door.

"Wait! There are guards outside my door!"

Sandor swore and swung back around.

"We'll have to go through the window. You're going to have to leave _that_ behind," he nodded at her trunk. "Only grab the essentials."

Distressed, she began digging through her possessions. Her mother's comb, the doll her father had given her, Bran's letters, Arya's locket, Rickon's drawings, and Robb's ring. All of these things, she bundled away along with a couple of articles of clothing. Everything else could be replaced, but these small trinkets were all she had left of her parents and siblings.

Sandor watched her with compassionate eyes, knowing how hard it was for her to be the only surviving member of her family. Forcing a smile, she gathered her bundle and tied it over her shoulder. Nervously, she came to the window to stand next to Sandor.

"Do you trust me?"

Unable to find her voice, she merely nodded.

"Put your arms around me and don't let go. This is going to be hard on you."

She did as he said. With one arm, he lifted her, and with the other, he swung himself over the edge of the window. His feet found purchase against the stone wall of the turret, and his hand grippe done of the protruding stones.

"I'm going to let go of you and climb down. Remember to just keep your arms around me."

Vigorously, she shook her head. Her violent motions threatened to dislodge them, and he tried his best to calm her. Her grip was deathly tight on him. With the strain of only holding on with one hand, his grip was slipping. Not wanting to alarm her, he started to ease away the arm that was wrapped around her back.

He felt her sharp intake of breath, and he leaned close to her.

"Just keep breathing, and don't look down."

"Okay," she whispered raggedly back.

Slowly, painfully, he began scaling the tower. With her ey4es shut tight against his chest, she clung to him and prayed that they would reach the ground safely. Pressing her body against his, she wished there was something she could do to make Sandor's task easier. He bore the brunt of the hardship, having to carry them both to the ground. His jerky movements, coupled with his grunts of effort, made her heart ache for him.

In the strong, reassuring curve of his arms, she couldn't feel more secure.

Her arms were numb, and her shoulders screamed with the pain of holding on. Right when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, she felt her body land softly in the grass. Breathing hard above her stood Sandor. It took her a moment to realize that they had reached the grass safely, and she nearly cried in happiness. _She was almost free_.

There was no time to revel or rest, however. After looking around to check for guards, he held his hand out to her and helped her to her feet. Quietly, they slipped over the dark grounds, barely more than shadows in the night.

The longer they ran, the more trouble she had keeping up. She stumbled, and in one unbroken moment, he lifted her. Again, he carried her through.

Instead of heading for the docks, he ran for the cliffs that towered along the shore. Slipping between a break, he clambered down to the strip of sand where it met the ocean. He let her down, and the two of them waded out into the surf. She squinted in the dark. After what felt like hours, a huge, hulking shadow moved slowly through the water toward them.

Bobbing in the moonlight, the ship was magnificent, made even more so by the fact that it was her liberation. Biting back a grin, she read the name on the side of the great boat. _The Little Bird_. Before she had a chance to ask him about it, one of the men on his crew threw him down a rope.

He grabbed the end of it and scooped her up. With her cradled against him, they were both hoisted into the air. Landing on the deck with more grace than she would expect of such a big man, Sandor turned to look at the men gathered before him. Wondering whispers whipped up around them, and she could see the looks of distrust on their faces.

"You didn't say anything about bringing a girl."

Sansa's eyes widened at his angry tone.

"Aye, captain, what's with the stowaway?"

"Is she a gift for us?"

Eyes glittering with greed and lust turned to look at her, and several men took unconscious steps toward her. Sandor's massive bulk moved protectively in front of her.

"Look at her again, and I will break your arm. Touch her, and I will leave you limbless. Hurt her, and I will kill you with my bare hands."

There was a chilling silence following his words, and no man dared argue with him. He led her to the captain's quarters and made sure that she was safely inside before turning to look at his crew.

"Men, to your stations! We're headed North."

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**Super cheesy, but what did you expect? hahaha**

**Thanks for the positive responses! I didn't expect such a good reaction. I am planning on continuing this, and I'm planning on not taking so long to update.**

**Thanks for the patience. I should be back soon! xxx**


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